Late at night, with darkness thick as ink, only the Red Comet hung high in the sky.
Maidenpool lay near the Bay of Crabs. Its castle stood atop a hill, while the town itself was enclosed by walls. The eastern hills were thick with growth, pine trees crowding in from every side like a silent army of gray green soldiers. The sea wind blew through, carrying the sound of the waves into the town.
Though it was already night, most of Maidenpool's people were too uneasy to sleep. They had already heard of Tywin and the Lannisters' atrocities, and Maidenpool might well suffer the same fate. Maidenpool had always been prosperous, and it was well known throughout the Riverlands.
"My lord, there seems to be a large number of ships coming up from the Bay of Crabs. You should see it with your own eyes." The captain of the guards, wearing a red cloak, came to find Lord Mooton, who had been so worried all day that he had gone to bed even later than usual. On the guard captain's back was House Mooton's sigil, a red salmon on white, edged in gold.
"What nonsense are you spouting? The Lannisters only brought infantry and cavalry this time," William Mooton grunted in irritation. "I told you to watch the west for the Lannisters' red cloaks, not stare at the Bay of Crabs. What is there to see there?"
William Mooton was soft all over with weak flesh, pale skinned, cowardly, and incompetent.
"You really should go look for yourself. There are many ships," the guard captain said anxiously.
So William Mooton followed the soldier up to the castle's watchtower and looked out over the fleet at sea.
The soldiers on the tower and the guard captain had not been lying. William Mooton could recognize those silent seagoing ships, as well as the smaller riverboats.
The night was black as ink, but as the ships passed before his eyes, William Mooton could still make out the cold gleam of armor in the darkness, along with the familiar occasional whinny of horses. There were soldiers on those ships, not just some, but a great many.
"My lord, what should we do?" the guard captain asked. "Could it be the Crackclaws are trying to attack us in the middle of the chaos?"
"Forget it. Who knows what those people are doing? Those bumpkins and wildlings." William Mooton grunted and rubbed his round belly. "They do not mean to attack us. If they did, they would be landing near Maidenpool."
"But in the middle of the night, are these Crackclaws really planning to get involved in the war too?" the guard captain said in puzzlement. "Right now it is Trout against Lion. What are these wildlings coming out for?"
"Let them be. Maybe they are only sticking their heads out to take a look."
The people of Maidenpool knew little about Crackclaw Point. The kings of House Darklyn of Duskendale had once tried to extend their lands into Crackclaw Point. House Mooton of Maidenpool had tried as well, and later House Celtigar of Claw Isle too, but they had achieved nothing except breed hatred.
Only the people of Crackclaw Point truly knew the local marshes and forests, and outsiders could not compare. If matters turned dire, they could disappear into the honeycomb like caves in the hills. When they were not fighting foreign enemies, they fought among themselves, their blood feuds between houses as black and deep as the marshes in the mountains.
"Let us go," William Mooton said to the guard captain. "The Bay of Crabs does not matter. What matters is Tywin's army. The moment they show themselves, I want to know."
"Yes, my lord," the guard captain said. "Our scouts are patrolling day and night, but it seems they still have not reached Harrenhal."
"If only my brother were still alive. He was better than me at everything. Myles understood everything," William Mooton said mournfully. Myles Mooton had been a famous knight and the Silver Prince's squire. Myles had been known as brave and fearless, nothing like his own weak self.
"Remember, do not spread this news. The town is already panicking."
"Yes, my lord."
"Brother, those men killed your dear friend's child. The Crackclaws once fought beside you beneath the dragon banner. Will they avenge you now? I do not dare, and I cannot strike at the Lannisters, but I want to see Lannister blood spilled." William Mooton walked down from the watchtower, recalling that brave, fearless face. To die gloriously in battle was an honor. To murder children and plunder the smallfolk was a grave sin.
The fleet led by Gendry reached Saltpans first. Under cover of night, some well trained soldiers moved in and swiftly took control of the town. It was a quiet place, dead still, and because of the rumors that Tywin was coming, some of the townsfolk had already fled outright.
Saltpans was only a town ruled by a small castle, with a tall square keep and a surrounding wall.
The soldiers quickly scaled the walls. Ser Quincy Cox kept only a small force, mostly old men and boys, and with some already sent off to Riverrun, they were easily subdued by the elite Gold Cloaks.
The elderly Ser Quincy Cox hurried out of the keep and saw the torches, the fluttering banners, the forest of spears, and the courtyard filled with knights.
"Gold is the king's color, but why is the banner quartered?" Ser Quincy wondered. But seeing the soldiers before him in neat order, neither attacking the stores nor plundering women, Ser Quincy understood at least that they had not come to kill.
"Kneel, Ser, before the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms," Anguy said as he looked at Ser Quincy. Ser Quincy had naturally already seen the striking quartered banner, stag and dragon dancing together.
Then he saw the tall warrior surrounded by the crowd, with clear, captivating eyes, a clean and well kept face, and a massive warhammer in his hand, and he understood most of it at once.
Ser Quincy dropped smoothly to one knee, then said, "Lord Gendry, my lords, I am the knight of Saltpans, a vassal to Lord Tully of Riverrun. I am loyal to the Iron Throne."
"You may swear your oath now," Ser Barristan said. "To the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of all the realm, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, the Breaker of the world, the Breaker of Shackles, the lifelong Lord Governor of Myr and Tyrosh, the Disputed Lands, and the Stepstones, the Lord Commander, Gendry."
Ser Quincy knelt before Gendry, unfastened the longsword at his waist, and laid it at Gendry's feet.
"Rise, old knight." Gendry helped Ser Quincy to his feet.
"Where are your children?" Gendry asked him.
"They've gone to fight for Lord Tully," Ser Quincy said. For a knightly house this small, there was almost no room to maneuver.
Especially with Tywin having gone mad, burning, killing, and looting, he had all but offended every lord in the Riverlands, forcing those lords, who had never been united to begin with, to band together on their own.
"Good. From this moment on, I want you fighting for me. I will leave some men here to keep order."
"As you command. Are you going to lift the siege?"
Anguy pursed his lips in annoyance. "Old man, you ask too many questions."
"Please, you must avenge us. The Lannisters are butchers."
Jack Crabb and Ser Boggs left some men behind to maintain order. The one placed in charge was the clever Dick, a scrawny fellow with a sharp, narrow face and dirty brown hair.
"Can that boy handle it?" Bronze Yohn asked Lord Jack after they had left the town.
"He's all right. Sharp, too, and a proper Crackclaw. He was born and raised on Crackclaw Point, and he knows the families, the roads, and the old tales there better than anyone."
The rest of the army did not stay long in Saltpans. Under cover of darkness, they crossed the Ruby Ford. Along the entire Green Fork, only the crossings by House Frey's castle could be used. Tywin was still busy digesting the castles of the Riverlands, and he had brought a great many foot soldiers with him, which would slow him down.
Fortune had favored them. Ruby Ford lay silent, and the Lannister host might not yet have reached Harrenhal.
"Full speed ahead. Once we cross Ruby Ford, we head first for Seagard," Gendry ordered. He had no intention of letting this chance slip by. He meant to meet the Kingslayer beneath Riverrun.
"As you command."
"As you command."
"Then what of House Frey's castle?" Ser Barristan asked.
In the vast Riverlands, only Seagard, Riverrun, the Twins, and Maidenpool were still holding out. But Maidenpool lay too close to the Crownlands and could almost be ignored at times. The only houses with real strength left were House Frey and House Mallister of Seagard.
"A Frey that comes late cannot be trusted," Bronze Yohn snorted. "They've grown addicted to collecting tolls. They act like upjumped merchants whenever anything happens."
"House Frey likes to bargain. Later, I'll give them a gift they cannot refuse," Gendry said.
"Our scouts will focus on the west," Gendry went on. "Tywin and the Kingslayer will both send out scouts. The Kingslayer's scouts will be watching for Riverlands guerrillas and for movements from Seagard. Tywin's scouts may range even farther, to observe the movements of the northern army. But they will never expect us to come killing out of the east."
Ser Barristan and Bronze Yohn both nodded.
"Lord Yohn," Gendry said. "You will take the vanguard. Pick two hundred men and two hundred good horses. Ride ahead to screen the army's movements and carry out reconnaissance."
"As you command. I will not let a single scout get back alive." Bronze Yohn accepted the order. In truth, there were two younger commanders among the Vale knights, but Gendry feared they would be too rash.
"If you run into House Frey scouts, kill them too."
"Yes."
The rest of the cavalry spread out behind Yohn and Gendry, moving swiftly like a forest of spears, polearms, and banners.
The night sky was still, with only the sound of running water echoing softly. The battle they anticipated would also come on a night like this.
Gendry's cavalry secretly raced first toward Seagard. In the northern Riverlands, besides Seagard on the coast near the headwaters of the Blue Fork, there was also House Frey's castle on the Green Fork.
Lord Jason Mallister at once brought his men to join them. After that they pushed south, and more fresh forces joined them one after another, including hedge knights, minor lords, and scattered soldiers who had lost their masters. They were the remnants of Edmure's army, broken beneath Riverrun and driven north.
The brutal consequences of Lannister burning and pillaging now showed themselves. They abused captives, almost never accepted surrender, and put other men's castles to the torch. Any Riverlands man with even a little courage would run rather than submit.
The whole host slipped into deep woods not far from Riverrun. Soft sounds drifted through the forest, a stream rushed through the valley below, winding across a stony riverbed, moonlight rippling over its surface. Beneath the trees, warhorses whinnied softly and pawed at the damp ground thick with fallen leaves.
This place was called the Whispering Wood. It had hills, water, and valleys, ideal for an ambush, and it lay close to Riverrun, carefully chosen for exactly that reason.
From time to time Gendry heard the scrape of armor and the clatter of longspears. He glanced at his Gold Cloaks. They were joking among themselves, yet their formation remained tight, like a steel forest. Even Lord Jason and Bronze Yohn could not help marveling at this army of iron.
Nearly all the troops were gathered here. The five hundred guard knights Gendry had brought, two thousand four hundred Crackclaw cavalry, with one hundred detached at Saltpans, one thousand Vale cavalry, one thousand Seagard cavalry, and the minor lords and scattered remnants who had come over to them, making more than five thousand men in all.
Wind stirred through the woods, and water murmured nearby. Gendry's massive warhammer rested on the ground beside him, while the black Dornish stallion stayed close at hand. Gendry listened to the call of the battlefield.
Gendry was waiting as well, waiting for the Kingslayer, that glittering golden warrior who was said to be hot tempered, and to know nothing of fatigue or patience. All of them were fishing, and the fish they wanted was the Kingslayer. Lord Jason was using a few scattered remnants as bait.
Gendry had already arranged the deployment. Bronze Yohn was in the west with the Vale knights and some of the Crackclaws. Lord Jason held the east with the forces of House Mallister. Ser Boggs and Jack Crabb took some Crackclaws to the narrow northern mouth of the river. Gendry's Gold Cloak cavalry was also east of the river mouth, but higher up on the ridge. He meant to lead the charge himself.
"He will not know where we are," Bronze Yohn said confidently. He was screening the advance of the main force with four hundred scouts now. "I'd stake my life on it. My archers have not let a single bird fly back to him. We ran into several of his scouts, and none of them lived to report back. He should have sent more men. In short, he does not know our movements."
"He is not the sort of knight who waits," Ser Barristan said. He knew his old companion well.
"He would never stay quietly in his tent waiting for carpenters to build siege towers," Bronze Yohn replied. "So far he has already led the cavalry out three times, chasing scattered Riverrun troops or assaulting stubborn holdfasts, all because Ser Marq Piper has been leading a small force in raids against the Lannister supply lines."
So the Kingslayer had not changed much even after The Mountain's death. That was good. One possibility Gendry had feared was that The Mountain's crushing defeat might suddenly make Jaime cautious. But apparently not. The Kingslayer had always been arrogant by nature, born to a great house and famous while still young.
"It looks as though the Kingslayer's forces are divided into three or four groups," Lord Jason said. "Once Riverrun's waters rise, the camps have to be spread out."
Lord Jason wore indigo armor inlaid with silver, and his helm was adorned with eagle's wings.
He was also a famed warrior of the Riverlands. Though old now, Lord Jason remained a tall, lean man with a clean shaven face, brown hair streaked with white, and fierce blue gray eyes. His face was gaunt and sharply cut, with high cheekbones. He was known for courtesy and honor.
"Quite right," Lord Yohn said. "Twelve thousand foot in total, divided among three camps scattered around the castle, with river water between them. It is the only way to besiege Riverrun, but it also spreads their strength thin. Their cavalry numbers perhaps two or three thousand."
"They have roughly three times our numbers," Ser Barristan said.
"But we still have a chance," Gendry said. "First, we are hidden and they are exposed. We know the Lannisters well. Second, the Kingslayer lacks patience and can be lured out. Third, they have divided into three camps, which spreads them thin and robs them of any real advantage in numbers. On top of that, Riverrun still has a garrison."
Lord Jason looked at Gendry. He seldom admired a young man unless that young man truly shone. Compared to him, Ser Edmure was already well grown and still could not even read a basic battle formation.
Then the sound of hooves grew louder. The Kingslayer had come at last.
A small band of routed soldiers feigned a retreat into the valley, the trout banners they carried dancing in the moonlight.
All the Lannisters charged in after them. Gendry saw his enemy at once. Jaime Lannister still stood out clearly, his golden hair and golden armor turned silver white by the moonlight, while his crimson cloak had gone black in the dark. He wore no helm.
Gendry also saw the long column behind him, knights, sworn swords, and freeriders, perhaps three quarters of the Lannister cavalry altogether.
"It is time."
Lord Jason led the Seagard force in a thunderous charge, crashing into the valley and making it known that Jaime's force had ridden fully into the trap.
Awooooooooooooooooo...
At Gendry's command, the men beside him blew their horns, and the cavalry began to ride off the ridge and down through the dark forest.
Then came answering horn blasts from the Crackclaws, the Vale, and House Mallister.
All at once the warhorses screamed, and thousands of mounted men came pouring down from above, determined to drown the Lannisters in blood.
The longbowmen led by Anguy emerged from among the trees as well and sent down a rain of arrows.
"Long live Lannister!"
"Long live Baratheon! Long live the Breaker!"
"Long live Runestone!"
"For Seagard!"
"Damn it, it's the usurper Gendry's army. How did he even get here?! Did he swim?"
"What the hell?! Instead of attacking the Stormlands, he came to help the trouts?" the Lannister soldiers cursed.
The Lannisters had given Gendry many ugly names. Gendry the Usurper, Gendry the Ambitious, Gendry Blackheart.
Gendry's Gold Cloaks shook the leaves and mud from their bodies, and the armor that had been dulled by concealment shone again with a cold light. Ser Barristan rode close behind him.
Gendry led the army in a downhill charge. The Dothraki horses ridden by the Gold Cloaks were among the finest of all horses, perfect in stamina, speed, and build, with explosive power.
"Follow me," Gendry shouted.
All the Gold Cloaks spread into a long horizontal line. Five hundred iron riders, unstoppable.
Gendry swung his warhammer, and the Lannisters who tried to resist him fell like leaves. Wherever the hammer struck, either hearts and lungs burst, or skulls were smashed open into holes.
The tall warrior swung his hammer, and the stag and dragon above him were soaked in red blood. The golden cloak streaming behind Gendry looked like golden fire.
Lord Jason widened his eyes as he watched Gendry's slaughter, as clean and perfect as a lesson from a war manual. His warhammer technique seemed boundless and impossible to predict. Wherever he passed, the red cloaks dropped at once.
When strength and speed reached a certain level, there was no need for flourish. Simplicity was enough. Lord Jason said nothing. This was savage beyond belief, fiercer even than the demon of the Trident.
"Mother..." a Lannister knight in front of Gendry cried out. His longsword slipped from his hand, his pupils widened, and then the sharp beak of the warhammer punched through his chest. He toppled from the saddle dead. Gendry swept a glance across the knight's face. He seemed little more than a boy.
The red cloaked Lannister riders all saw that towering knight in gold, wielding a massive warhammer and reaping lives as if he were cutting wheat, like some horned god of war in the middle of the press.
"Robert. Has King Robert come back from the dead?!"
"Spare us! We are not traitors!"
"Is King Robert crawling out of the grave? The king did not die?" the red cloaks cried in terror, panicked by every shadow.
Golden banners rose one after another, like blazing golden flames. The leaping stag. The roaring dragon. Lannister morale shattered, and the tide of collapse had already begun.
"Kingslayer, I am your enemy."
The Kingslayer turned in the middle of the fighting and saw the man in the golden cloak, like a god of slaughter walking among men, bringing death wherever he went.
"R-Robert's son." The Kingslayer saw the sigil on the cloak, the leaping stag and the roaring dragon. Gold, black, and red, the three colors nearly pierced his eyes.
"Run, Ser! We cannot hold them back!" The men around him shouted in panic, and one of his squires could not help blurting out, "The enemy is too strong. This is a massacre!"
"Too strong?" the Kingslayer roared, half crazed, and instead raised his gilded sword and charged forward. "You will not let me go even in death?"
...
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